


Mornings

by collectiveobsession



Series: Cullen x Evelyn [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectiveobsession/pseuds/collectiveobsession
Summary: He is used to her as the Inquisitor: stern face with a crease between her brows, slim fingers gripping onto her staff, and confident posture that commands authority. But in the waking hours of the morning, she is only Evie.





	Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble that kept me up at night :)

Cullen awakens first. This comes as no surprise to him; he has always been an early riser, a habit ingrained in him from youth on the farm and later as a Templar. He operates on what he has been told is too little sleep, but finds that there is too much to do. There is so little time and too much on the horizon to justify a “reasonable” night’s sleep.

However, since the start of this… _relationship_ with the Inquisitor, he has found that he sleeps a little bit later every time he wakes beside her. His lyrium-induced nightmares are still a regular occurrence, but less frequent since he shared a bed with her. He’s not sure if it is the lyrium finally leaving his system for good, or if it is merely human nature to feel safer beside a warm body. Cullen likes to believe the former, but the latter will do as well.

Waking earlier also allows him the luxury of watching her. He is used to her as the Inquisitor: stern face with a crease between her brows, slim fingers gripping onto her staff, and confident posture that commands authority. But in the waking hours of the morning, she is only Evie. She is soft skin, crooked, dimpled smiles, and bright, clear laughter. She belongs to only him, and the rest of Thedas can wait for a moment.

He watches her, taking in the small details of her face, illuminated by the pink glow of the rising sun. Evie is all freckles, dusting across her nose, cheeks, and forehead. Her sandy brown curls are a mess of tangles, spilling across both her and his pillows. Her left hand twitches in her sleep; the anchor is silent, thankfully, but he sees the minute clenching of her fist. He hopes it allows her a few more moments of peace.

Cullen slides out from beneath the blankets, groaning quietly as the cold morning air chills him. The floor is much worse; his feet quickly going numb soon after they’ve hit the carpeted stone. His boots are somewhere by the staircase and he finds that too far to fetch them. He pads along, picking up his wayward tunic from where it was thrown aimlessly last night. Cullen smiles as he recalls her eagerness, hands everywhere, seeking skin, seeking warmth.

He squints as he approaches one of the sets of glass doors leading to the balcony; the glass is entirely white and Cullen cannot make out the familiar outlines of the surrounding mountains in the distance. He scarcely remembers murmurings of a snowstorm in the distance, and it appears that those wonderings were true. He steps up to the glass, skin prickling at the cold and he wraps his arms around his chest in attempt to keep warm. Cullen had always thought these balcony doors so impractical (there were definitely too many of them – hardly defensible, his commander’s voice tuts), and the punishing draft he can feel from several steps away speaks to their inefficiency. Evie should at least put drapes on them, if nothing else.

He steps even closer to the glass, finally seeing the blinding white wonderland before him as the sun fully rises. Everything is white and at least half a foot of fresh powder dusts the whole balcony. Cullen can see the fine flakes blowing about in the harsh winds that whistle endlessly in the highest peaks of the stronghold. Except for the wind faintly howling on the other side of the doors, everything is silent.

Cullen stands there, taking in the scenery for what feels like an endless amount of time. His quiet is interrupted by a pair of small arms wrapping around his stomach and a head of messy ringlets peeking out from behind his shoulder.

“Morning,” Evie mumbles sleepily, and he can feel her satisfied smile on his bicep as she leans her cheek into his skin. He can feel every curve of her body pressed against his back and he revels in how soft his Inquisitor can be. Cullen covers her arms with his own, a contented sigh blowing past his lips.

“It’s cold,” She murmurs, “come back to bed.” He smiles and nods, allowing her hands to lead him back to the warmth of their safe haven.

“Of course, love.”

This is the kind of morning he could get used to.


End file.
